


Ours, Mine, Yours

by anon_decepticon



Series: Seekersmut [4]
Category: Transformers, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, Comfort Sex, Dubious Consent, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Robot Sex, Slash, Sticky, Threesome, sparksex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-15
Updated: 2009-10-19
Packaged: 2017-10-09 22:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/92364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anon_decepticon/pseuds/anon_decepticon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thundercracker and Skywarp try to find a way to be exclusive in a world where exclusivity is not only taboo, but also highly unfeasible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ours

**Author's Note:**

> Part one of three, Thundercracker's PoV. This is a continuation of the G1 fic continuity that follows my third, fourth and tenth fics for the kink meme, _"Skywarp Goes Solo"_, _"Thunderstruck"_ and _"Grounded."_ Although this part would probably work as a standalone, the rest won't, so you should probably read those first.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonding is essential to maintain a trine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer**: I don't own Transformers.  
> **Chapter Warnings**: Sticky, oral, threesome, Seekerfluff. Do I have to warn for IC Starscream?

**Part One: Ours**

Thundercracker and Skywarp stood at attention on the landing of the docking tower of the Decepticon base, their attention focused on their trine leader, who was standing in front of them, his arms crossed over his cockpit as he regarded them appraisingly.

It was difficult to discern Starscream's current mood. They'd been good today – but not perfect.

They'd put up a decent fight when the Autobots showed up to interrupt their raid on the nuclear power plant Megatron had targeted, but in the end they'd been forced to retreat with only half of the energon cubes they'd collected. It hadn't been a humiliating loss…but it _had_ been a loss.

None of them had sustained any damage during the battle; their evasive maneuvers had been executed with flawless precision. Thundercracker had shot down one Aerialbot, and Skywarp had winged another badly enough to force him to withdraw, leaving the Autobots' newest gestalt unable to merge. All of those things should have been a source of pride for the Decepticon Seekers, and yet…

They'd flown well _individually_, of that there could be no question. But they'd faltered twice in formation, committing subtle errors that were not in any way notable to an outside observer, but glaringly obvious within the context of the trine. Even if they'd won the day, that knowledge would have tainted their victory, leaving them with a persistent, nagging sense of discontentment.

Thundercracker glanced over at Skywarp, standing a few meters to his left. His trinemate was feeling it too. He could tell from the way Skywarp was fidgeting restlessly, his ailerons flicking in agitation. Skywarp's posture alone announced his mood, told Thundercracker at a glance that 'Warp would jump him the moment they returned to their quarters, demanding to be fragged into exhaustion.

Thundercracker had no objection to that idea. A good overload (or two) would help to take the edge off, to relieve the sting of failure clinging to them like cosmic rust.

He shifted his weight slightly, forcing appealing but inconvenient thoughts of what he'd like to do to Skywarp right now to the back of his processor, and returned his attention to Starscream. Starscream had remained uncharacteristically quiet during his customary post-battle assessment of his trine, studying them both with an intensity that bordered on unnerving. His focused scrutiny only served to exacerbate the unrelenting tension sparking in their circuits.

Predictably, Skywarp broke first. "C'mon, Starscream," he said impatiently. "Are we dismissed, or what?"

"No," Starscream said, his tone oddly without rancor, almost contemplative. Ignoring Skywarp's rather profane retort, he added, "You will both report to my quarters immediately."

For a stunned astrosecond they simply stared at him in surprise. Starscream smirked at their reactions, regarding them with an arch expression.

Thundercracker and Skywarp exchanged glances, sharing a look that spoke volumes.

_Of course,_ that look said. How had they not seen it before? It had been so _long._ Was it any wonder their performance had suffered?

Starscream turned and started toward the elevator that would ferry them back inside the base. Thundercracker and Skywarp followed, falling instinctively into formation behind him.

They felt better already.

* * *

The atmosphere in Starscream's quarters was tense, almost awkward – subtly so, but it was there.

That alone served to illustrate just how _bad_ things had gotten, how much this was needed. Thundercracker and Skywarp both hesitated on the threshold as Starscream proceeded inside, realizing with a jolt that this was the first time they'd even _seen_ the interior of their trineleader's quarters since they'd crash-landed on Earth.

It had been _that_ long.

For the next few breems, words were superfluous. They all knew beyond a doubt that this was absolutely necessary. Everything else, all the petty differences and old arguments, was put aside.

Starscream gestured absently in the direction of the berths – his quarters were identical to the adjacent room Thundercracker and Skywarp shared, but his rank as Megatron's second in command meant Starscream shared with no one – and they each took a seat, automatically selecting the berth that corresponded to their own in their room next door, not coincidentally also their designated positions within the trine's standard flight formation.

As they took their places, Starscream strode over the refueling station – another privilege accorded his rank – and proceeded to dispense three cubes, which he distributed wordlessly between them.

Thundercracker accepted the proffered cube with a nod, watching silently as Starscream retrieved his own cube and returned to stand between them.

Starscream lifted the cube to his lip components. Thundercracker and Skywarp did the same.

Starscream drank. They drank.

The energon was of good quality. Not high grade – intoxication to any degree would be unnecessary and unwelcome in this context – but refined enough to fully charge their systems, leaving them feeling refreshed and reinvigorated in the wake of the recent battle. They consumed their rations at an unhurried pace, allowing their individual energy signatures to settle into their accustomed configurations. Thundercracker and Skywarp's signatures aligned almost instantly. Starscream's took...significantly longer.

They waited for him, sipping slowly.

Gradually their combined signatures resolved themselves into an overlapping, cohesive whole, blending together in a manner that was both comforting and familiar. The prolonged silence was broken by the faint hiss of depressurizing hydraulics as each of them relaxed, the last lingering echoes of tension melting away.

Starscream tilted his helm back, tipping his cube high to drain it. He managed to make even that simple gesture into a veritable performance, adopting a posture that managed to look unselfconscious and nonchalant while still displaying his most attractive features to their greatest possible advantage. He held the pose until the last drops of energon trickled down his intake, allowing his trinemates ample time for a long, appreciative look, and then dispersed the container with a calculatedly casual flick of his wrist.

Thundercracker exchanged another glance with Skywarp. What any other mech might have interpreted as mere narcissism communicated far more to them – Starscream was nervous, embarrassed at being the weak link in their trine bond, at having allowed them to drift so far apart that it had impacted their performance. He'd never admit it out loud, but they didn't _need_ to hear him say it – they knew _him_, just as Starscream knew they would accept his unspoken apology, because he knew _them_.

That was what this was all about. As one, they turned their helms to meet his gaze.

Starscream smirked at him. "Good shot today," he said.

Thundercracker grinned.

His grin widened as Starscream approached him, lowering himself to kneel at Thundercracker's feet. Hands the color of the sky they adored came to rest on his slightly parted thighs, urging them apart.

His optics lit in anticipation as he met Starscream's lambent crimson gaze, and he triggered the latches on his panel, willing it to retract. Starscream leaned forward immediately, bending his helm to trace Thundercracker's spike housing with his glossa.

He briefly met Skywarp's optics over Starscream's bowed helm as Starscream teased his interface array with his glossa, coaxing his spike to extend. He looked down again as it emerged, watching as Starscream took it into his mouth with a hum of approval.

Rumbling with pleasure and contentment, Thundercracker watched his spike disappear into that warm, willing mouth, his internal cooling fans switching on as his core temperature began to climb. Starscream was _good_ at this, phenomenally good, employing his lip components and glossa with a skill that implied extensive experience. At some point during the course of their estrangement, Starscream had obviously perfected his technique.

For several kliks Thundercracker simply watched him, hypnotized by the sight of that bobbing helm, enthralled by the pleasurable sensations coursing through his intimate circuitry, until Starscream suddenly took his full length into his mouth at once, swallowing his spike to the hilt. Thundercracker groaned, his helm falling back and his optics dimming, his hands gripping the edge of the berth. An astrosecond later, Starscream _swallowed_, causing his fuel intake tube to flex around Thundercracker's spike, and Thundercracker very nearly overloaded right then and there, overwhelmed by the intense and unexpected rush of unfamiliar yet all-too-familiar sensation. It took every ounce of his will to hold it back, but he managed it – he didn't want this experience to end quite so soon.

Starscream drew back, granting him a much-needed respite, and resumed his previous efforts, his hands squeezing and stroking Thundercracker's parted thighs as he emitted another hum of approval, this time colored with an undertone of smug self-satisfaction and the faintest hint of amusement.

As absorbed as Thundercracker was with the pleasure Starscream was providing him, he only dimly registered the fact that Skywarp had moved, that he'd risen from the berth and dropped to his knees behind Starscream, eagerly caressing his wings and backstruts. It wasn't until Starscream moaned around his spike and adjusted his position without pausing in his rhythmic attentions, lifting his hip plate in open invitation, that Thundercracker realized Skywarp had joined them.

Thundercracker onlined his optics to find Skywarp grinning up at him lasciviously as he groped Starscream's aft, vigorously rubbing his panel in an effort to persuade Starscream to open up. It didn't take much; the soft _click_ of Starscream's panel retracting reached their waiting audials within astroseconds.

Skywarp chirred with excitement and approval, leaning back to indulge in a nice long look. "Wow, Screamer," he said gleefully, "sucking spike must really spin your turbines; you're dripping like that defective bulkhead in cargo bay seven!"

Thundercracker's optics widened even as Starscream's narrowed, his growl of irritation vibrating up the length of Thundercracker's spike. Thundercracker quickly grabbed the back of Starscream's helm before he could raise it to deliver a scathing retort, holding him in place, and cast a forbidding glare at Skywarp across Starscream's shoulder-vents in wordless warning: _Don't ruin this._

At his look, Skywarp seemed to recall why they were here, his expression shifting rapidly from cheeky amusement to mortified chagrin. "Sorry," he muttered sheepishly, and from his movements and the way Starscream suddenly tensed, Thundercracker knew Skywarp had slipped a couple of fingers into Starscream's valve by way of atonement.

He glanced back at Starscream, uncertain how Skywarp's "apology" would be received. His inquiring look was greeted by a withering glare. Thundercracker rumbled placatingly, easing his grip on the back of Starscream's helm to allow him to move freely once more, turning the touch into a caress. At the same time he reached for Starscream's nearer wing with his other hand, stroking along the seams, gently teasing and flicking the sensitive aileron with his fingertips. Starscream hummed again in grudging acceptance, evidently mollified, and resumed his attentions to his spike.

Still trying to make up for his gaffe, Skywarp bent over their trine leader to fondle the wing opposite the one Thundercracker was caressing, fingering Starscream's valve and cooing soft words of flattery and admiration into his audial. To Thundercracker's relief, the tension eased from Starscream's servos and he began to rock back against Skywarp's hand, silently urging him to continue.

Thundercracker relaxed in turn, offlining his optics and surrendering himself once more to the sensation of Starscream's mouth moving over his spike, to the slow rise of pleasure it induced. Starscream was in no hurry, and neither was he. Thundercracker stroked his helm again, almost fondly. As far as he was concerned, this was a far better use for Starscream's mouth than its normal mode of operation.

He wasn't sure exactly what Skywarp _did_ to make Starscream falter in his rhythm, to make him shudder and moan around his spike, but when he onlined his optics again he found Skywarp looking inordinately pleased with himself.

"You like that, Screamer?" Skywarp asked, his vocalizer crackling with lust in a way Thundercracker recognized all too well. Skywarp was _seriously_ wound up. His own circuits heated in response to that familiar tone, recalling all the times Skywarp had spoken to _him_ like that.

Distracted by own his response to Skywarp's suggestive query, Thundercracker failed to react quickly enough to prevent Starscream from lifting his helm and releasing his spike. "Don't call me that," Starscream said peevishly, casting an irritable look at Skywarp over his shoulder-vent.

"Aw, you don't like it when I do _this_?" Skywarp responded cheekily, doing something else Thundercracker couldn't see that made Starscream jerk and cry out, bowing his helm and shuddering, his wings quivering so enticingly that Thundercracker was compelled to reach out and stroke them again, rumbling with desire. "Shut up," Starscream panted without raising his helm, his own vocalizer giving way to static. "Shut up and frag me, you little glitch."

That was one command Skywarp was only too happy to obey.

Starscream moaned again as Skywarp entered him, thrusting back to urge his spike deeper into his valve, grinding against his interface. "Harder," he commanded, his vocalizer quavering with need. "Unh! _Harder_, you worthless fragger!"

Thundercracker rumbled begrudgingly at the two of them, thoroughly aroused by the sight but mildly annoyed at having lost Starscream's oh-so-pleasant attentions. His spike was still extended, and he wasn't about to finish _himself_ off while they had their fun without him. Pushing up off the berth, he circled around them and leaned into Skywarp, pressing his heated spike tight against Skywarp's aft, his hands dropping low to grip his trinemate's hip plate.

Skywarp purred in approval even as Starscream continued to shove urgently back into him, bending forward over his trineleader's trembling wings to trace the seams with his glossa as he continued to thrust, granting Thundercracker access to his valve.

Without hesitation, Thundercracker drove into him, plunging his spike deep into Skywarp's slick and ready valve, eliciting a gasp as Skywarp's intakes hitched at the sudden and intimate invasion. "Oh, frag," Skywarp said, his vocalizer strained by the onslaught of redoubled sensations, "_Frag_, yeah."

Thundercracker rumbled again, this time with unmitigated lust, and quickly adopted a swift, dominating rhythm, pounding his spike into Skywarp's valve as fast and hard as he was able. He was primed, but Skywarp was closer, and if he wasn't quick enough Skywarp might finish without him.

"_That's_ more like it," Starscream groaned in response to the combined weight of Thundercracker's thrusts added to Skywarp's own, forcing Skywarp's spike deeper into his valve with every stroke. Starscream had a preference for rough interfacing, a preference Thundercracker had occasionally accommodated but never truly understood. It was almost as if Starscream..._liked_ pain.

He wondered if that was why Starscream so often went out of his way to slag off Megatron. Thundercracker was fairly certain that at least half the time Megatron ended up fragging Starscream into submission rather than beating him – could it be that _that_ was Starscream's primary goal, his true reason for constantly goading their leader with his petty attempts at rebellion?

_No,_ he thought, shaking his helm, bringing his processor back to the here-and-now and pumping his spike into Skywarp's valve with renewed vigor. Starscream wanted to lead, of that much Thundercracker was certain. Starscream may have liked being 'faced – and 'faced often – as much as any Seeker, but he wasn't about to let his interface array dictate to his processor. That wasn't how Seeker programming functioned.

The insatiability of Seekers was well known, practically a running joke amongst Decepticons and Cybertronians in general, but few non-Seekers realized that it served a larger purpose. With the exception of gestalts – who had their own way of intimately connecting via the gestalt merge – only Seekers were designed to function as a unit, to think and act as one. Interfacing provided that connection, ensured a healthy trine bond, allowing them to build on each other's strengths and cover for each other's weaknesses in battle. The fact that they'd gone so long without doing this had hurt them, weakened their bond. Only this would repair it.

The sensation of Skywarp's valve beginning to flex around his spike pulled Thundercracker from his reverie, drawing a deep, rumbling groan from his vocalizer, startling him with the realization of just how _close_ he was. He wasn't alone – Skywarp was chanting, "_Primus, oh, Primus,_" in an urgent undertone, quaking on the verge of overload, alternately thrusting his spike into Starscream's valve and shoving back against Thundercracker's with wanton abandon, over and over again, pursuing that inevitable moment of release with single-minded determination. Beneath them, Thundercracker could feel Starscream trembling as he rocked back and forth, his ecstatic cries growing in pitch and volume even as Thundercracker's own rumbles of pleasure dipped lower, crossing into subsonic range and vibrating their frames at every point of contact.

Ever impatient and subject to the dual stimulation of both his spike and valve, Skywarp overloaded first, his valve clamping down hard on Thundercracker's spike as his hips pumped frantically, driving his spike into Starscream in ardent desperation, sobbing in incoherent ecstasy as he shuddered and emptied himself into his trineleader's valve.

The sensation of Skywarp's valve spasming around his spike was too intense to ignore; Thundercracker was pulled over the edge right along with him, managing only a handful of deep, forceful thrusts into that tight, clenching heat before he succumbed to his own overload with a roar.

Those final thrusts were all it took to send Starscream shrieking into overload after them, practically shattering their audials as he gave voice to his release. Starscream's name, Thundercracker mused, was frighteningly apt; he was quite certain the stars themselves had heard _that_, not to mention every 'Con on the _Nemesis_.

They collapsed to the floor in a quivering heap of overheated plating and sparking circuitry, sated and too weak to rise. Their energy signatures hummed in unison as they basked in the afterglow, perfectly aligned.

* * *

They remained that way for only a few kliks before Starscream objected to being half-crushed under their combined weight and ordered them to get the frag off him. Thundercracker complied shakily, pulling the dazed and unresponsive Skywarp along with him. He slumped back against the berth behind him, not trusting his trembling limbs to support them both if he tried to stand. Skywarp ended up half-sprawled across his lap, his optics dim, too depleted by his dual overload to even sit up, but Thundercracker didn't mind. He kept his arms around 'Warp's waist components in a loose embrace, rumbling contentedly at the pleasant warmth that emanated from their overheated frames.

Opposite them Starscream reached for the berth in front of him, using it to pull himself to his feet and then dropping onto it with a soft _clank_, his cooling fans still cycling hard.

It didn't seem quite _right_, him being so far away from them. "You should come over here, Starscream," he suggested, a little discomfited by the fact that he actually _wanted_ him closer.

"There is such a thing as _too_ much bonding, you know," Starscream replied disdainfully from his berth. There was a brief pause, filled only with the occasional soft _ping_ of cooling metal and the sound of their internal fans cycling down. Then he added, "Maybe when my legs start working again," he added hesitantly, sounding almost…apologetic.

"This was good," he said, watching him. "We needed it." There was no accusation in his tone, no reproach – just a simple statement of fact.

Starscream hummed in reluctant agreement as Skywarp began to stir.

"Primus, that was _intense_," Skywarp said emphatically, leaning back against him and huffing through his intakes. "It's been so long, I'd forgotten what it was like."

He gave Skywarp's waist components a mild pinch, warning him to mute his vocalizer before he said something stupid. Skywarp twisted in his arms, giving him an injured look. Meeting his gaze, Thundercracker canted his helm in Starscream's direction, and saw comprehension dawn in Skywarp's optics. "We should do it again sometime," he said aloud, as if the nonverbal exchange had never taken place.

"Yeah," Skywarp said. "We definitely need to do that again. _A lot._"

Thundercracker rumbled in amusement at the eagerness in his tone. "Those Aerialbots won't know what hit 'em," he said.

"Yeah," Skywarp said, chuckling darkly in anticipation. "They are _so_ fragged."

Starscream offered no response to the enthusiastic trashing of their rivals. Thundercracker and Skywarp exchanged another glance.

Pulling free of his arms before Thundercracker could stop him, Skywarp heaved to his feet and staggered the few steps to the other berth, flopping down on top of Starscream like an overzealous turbo-puppy.

Starscream squawked in indignation, but Skywarp ignored him in favor of groping his wings and grinding their cockpits together. "C'mon, _Screamer_," he said. "Don't you wanna do that again? Don't you wanna slag those stupid Aerialbots?"

"All right," Starscream relented, squirming to avoid Skywarp's insistent pawing. "All right, all _right_, you annoying fragger! I'll set up a schedule! Now get _off_ me!"

"There, now was that so hard?" Skywarp asked cheekily, ceasing his advances and pushing up off the berth, showing no trace of his earlier weakness.

Starscream glared at him, but Thundercracker caught his optics from below Skywarp's wingtip, giving him a wry look of longsuffering resignation.

Starscream smirked. "You're dismissed," he said with just a hint of amusement, holding Thundercracker's gaze. "Get out of my quarters."

Thundercracker rumbled in approval. Every once in a while, Skywarp actually did something _right_.

* * *

Being right next door, it took less than a klik for them to return to their quarters. Thundercracker entered first, Skywarp right behind him, and they each moved to take a seat on their berths, feeling relaxed and content.

"Screamer's not so bad, huh?" Skywarp said. "Still kind of an aft, but not bad."

Thundercracker rumbled in amusement. "I like him better with his mouth full."

Skywarp snickered. "Yeah, he talks too much," he agreed, and then laughed. "Hey! In _space_, no one can hear _Starscream!_"

Thundercracker frowned as Skywarp chortled gleefully at his own joke. What the slag was Skywarp talking about? No one could hear _anything_ in space – it was a vacuum. He shook his helm indulgently, dismissing it as yet another one of the many random things Skywarp came up with. "I like space," he said dryly.

Skywarp laughed even harder at that, but then he sobered, meeting Thundercracker's gaze. "I don't," he said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "If we were in space, I couldn't hear _you_."

He lowered his helm, breaking optic contact, feeling vaguely discomfited by Skywarp's frank statement even as his spark pulsed with something like joy in response to his words. "That's why we have comms, dimspark," he muttered.

"Not the same," Skywarp insisted, his voice low and intimate. "Not by half, TC."

His tone made Thundercracker raise his helm to meet his gaze. Thundercracker knew him far too well not to recognize the look Skywarp was giving him, to mistake the dim glow lurking in his optics. He shook his helm in amazement. "You _can't_ be ready to go again," he said in disbelief, impressed by his trinemate's insatiability…and his own, he realized. His circuits were starting to heat up again just from the look Skywarp was giving him.

Skywarp practically leapt off the berth, coming over and dropping into his lap, straddling his thighs. "Yup."

"You're flying that solo mission tomorrow," he reminded him. "To steal that component Megatron wants."

"So?" Skywarp said, resting his helm against Thundercracker's and fondling his intakes, his internal fans switching on. "C'mon, TC," he wheedled, grinding their panels together. "You know you want to."

He wasn't wrong. "Yeah, okay," he said.


	2. Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Megatron wants, Megatron gets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer:** I don't own Transformers.  
> **Chapter Warnings:** Non/Dub-con (depending on your perspective), humiliation, angst, references to rape.

**Part 2: Mine**

Thundercracker lowered the datapad only a few kliks after he'd picked it up, venting a restless sigh. He couldn't concentrate; he'd read the same line of glyphs half a dozen times without absorbing a word.

He felt…_alone_.

It was due to their recent bonding, he was sure. Normally he didn't mind being left to his own devices, but at the moment he felt the absence of his trinemates more keenly than he had at any time in recent memory.

He huffed in irritation at his own weakness. It wasn't as if they'd been separated all that long. Skywarp would be back from his mission in a joor or two at most, and Starscream hadn't even left the base – he was just laid up in repair bay.

For a moment he considered paying him a visit – and then shook his helm in disbelief that the notion had even occurred to him. Visit _Starscream?_

Skywarp would, if Starscream had gotten slagged in battle. And he'd have dragged Thundercracker along with him – although to be honest he wouldn't have put up much resistance, glad to have Skywarp as an excuse – but this was different. Starscream was in repair bay getting pieced back together by the Constructicons because he'd challenged Megatron. _Again._ Visiting him now would imply that Thundercracker approved of his actions.

He wasn't the most loyal 'Con on the base. He'd slipped up a couple of times, rebelled on a few minor occasions in small, petty ways, and the reputation had stuck. He couldn't risk strengthening that impression. He _was_ loyal – to a point.

But he _did_ kind of want to see Starscream, all the same. It wasn't that he was all that worried about the slagger – Starscream had survived worse – or that he sympathized with him; Starscream had brought this situation on himself by his own arrogant stupidity.

It was the fact that they'd bonded recently, after having gone so long without.

He didn't _like_ Starscream. He never had, really. But Starscream was his trine leader, and Thundercracker _understood_ him to a certain degree – he had to, in order to fly with him. That was what trine bonding was all about. Starscream was one of the most skilled flyers Cybertron had ever produced, and Thundercracker had to respect him for that, had to acknowledge that he was worthy of his rank as Megatron's second in command, and that he was fortunate to have Starscream as the leader of his trine, instead of some other, less skilled but more personable mech.

No matter how grating his personality.

He had to care, just a little, because he'd seen Starscream with his guard lowered, just a little. He'd been permitted to see the cracks in Starscream's emotional armor, the vulnerability that Starscream never allowed anyone but Thundercracker and Skywarp to see, because he knew Thundercracker and Skywarp would accept it, accept _him_, his weaknesses _and_ his strengths, just as they accepted Skywarp's flightiness or Thundercracker's occasional moments of doubt and uncertainty.

That was what it _meant_ to be a trine.

_Slag it._ He'd been online for vorns, survived countless battles – he could survive a few joors of solitary idleness, for Primus' sake. Skywarp would be back soon, and probably just as eager to…reconnect as Thundercracker was. He could wait. The wait would be worth it.

Maybe he'd even –

_*Thundercracker.*_

He started, as surprised by the unexpected comm as by the low, gravelly voice that uttered it.

_*Yes, Lord Megatron?*_ he replied.

_*You will report to me immediately.*_

_*As you command, Lord Megatron,*_ he responded automatically, heaving himself to his feet.

He wondered what Megatron wanted. Skywarp was off-base, and Starscream wouldn't be repaired enough to _walk_ yet, let alone fly. Another solo mission? Or had Skywarp –?

His spark clenched in apprehension. Had something happened to Skywarp? Had that impulsive fragger screwed up his mission somehow, gotten himself shot down or injured? His pace quickened, his strides lengthening. He was halfway down the corridor before he realized he didn't know where he was going. He had no idea where Megatron even _was._

A quick inquiry to the base's main computer took care of that: Megatron was in his quarters.

That was…odd. He'd assumed Megatron would be in Command, probably with Soundwave. He'd never received orders from Megatron while the Decepticon leader was in his personal quarters – he'd never even been in that section of the ship – but he supposed it wasn't _that_ unusual. It was fairly late, by both Earth and Cybertronian time; Megatron was probably preparing to recharge. Even the Slagmaker had to rest sometime.

Shaking his helm, he addressed his steps in that direction. He'd just have to go and see what Megatron wanted.

* * *

The door hissed open in response to his query ping, but Thundercracker remained outside, awaiting a formal invitation. He felt vaguely uneasy at the thought of just walking right in. He didn't want to presume.

"Enter," Megatron said from somewhere within.

Thundercracker complied, stepping over the threshold. He halted just a few steps beyond the door, surreptitiously taking in the features of the room. He thought it unwise to appear too curious, but he couldn't resist glancing around – he doubted he'd ever have another opportunity to see how the infamous Megatron lived during his off-duty joors.

He couldn't make out much in the way of details. The room was rather dimly lit – confirmation of his theory that Megatron was preparing to recharge – and the majority of its features were shrouded in darkness. His first impression was that it was _big_, certainly larger than the room he shared with Skywarp. That struck him as appropriate; Megatron was the leader of the entire Decepticon army after all, and a very large mech besides.

Even the _berth_ was huge, raised up on a high plinth that no doubt housed a luxurious assortment of personal comfort controls, easily large enough for a shuttle or triplechanger to recharge on comfortably with room to spare. Like Starscream, Megatron had his own refueling station, which Thundercracker was sure dispensed only the purest refined energon, and if the doorway off to his left was any indication, Megatron had his own private washrack as well.

Apart from that, the room seemed oddly barren of both furnishing and decoration – a workstation, the berth, a couple of chairs – which may have contributed to the impression of vastness. Thundercracker was almost disappointed; he'd expected _opulence_, some indication of Megatron's superiority, not this standard-with-a-few-perks utilitarianism.

There wasn't even a _throne._

If Starscream ever succeeded in overthrowing Megatron, there'd be a throne. The room would be crammed with treasures on display, filled to bursting with shiny objects and bright colors. It would be unforgivably _gaudy._ He smirked a little to himself at the thought. They'd all be slagged, but Starscream's quarters would at least look the part.

Distracted by the unfamiliar room and his own amusement, it took Thundercracker a moment to remember why he was here in the first place. He located Megatron by the dim glow of his optics, standing roughly in the center of the room, his imposing silver frame more than half-concealed by shadows.

Seeing the tyrant standing there silently observing him sent a faint shiver of unease through his spark. Why wasn't Megatron saying anything? He'd ordered Thundercracker to come here at his command, so why wasn't he…commanding him?

Unable to bear the growing tension, he threw decorum to the winds and spoke first. "You, uh…you wanted me, sir?" he asked hesitantly.

"_Yes,_" Megatron said, his optics flashing.

It was the _way_ he said it that sent the thrill of apprehension up Thundercracker's backstrut, made his optics widen and his servos tense with sudden dread. It was the way Megatron was _looking_ at him, like Thundercracker was an object he wanted to possess, something to lay claim to as rightfully _his_, that triggered the revelation in Thundercracker's CPU.

Megatron sometimes ordered _Skywarp_ to report to his personal quarters, to perform a duty that had nothing to do with fighting or flying. Skywarp didn't really talk about what went on there – for which Thundercracker had always been grateful – but he had a pretty good idea, nonetheless.

But right now Skywarp was unavailable, out flying a mission only he could perform. Starscream, arguably Megatron's second choice, was too slagged to do much more than lie on a repair berth counting the cracks in the ceiling. Which left…Thundercracker.

For a klik he was to terrified to move, his sense of personal pride warring with his desire to flee the room while he had the chance. He knew he couldn't actually do it – even if the idea wasn't completely humiliating, the consequences would be dire – but Primus, he _wanted_ to.

He realized with a horrible certainty that he was going to have to _do_ this.

Megatron was still watching him, and had to be growing impatient by now. He forced himself to activate his vocalizer, to ask with more calm than he felt, "What do you want me to do, sir?"

"Get on the berth, fool."

The words sent another thrill of fear chasing up his backstrut. Megatron _was_ impatient, bordering on angry. If Thundercracker didn't perform to his satisfaction, he was going to get slagged. _Probably end up on a repair berth right next to Starscream,_ he thought grimly, walking past Megatron to stand next to the berth.

Once there, he hesitated, staring blankly at the broad, innocuous surface. Should he sit? Lie down? On his front, or on his back? If he did, would Megatron be angered by his presumption? If he didn't, would Megatron be angered by his apparent refusal to comply?

Paralyzed by uncertainty and trying desperately to navigate his way through this scenario in a way that didn't end with him as a broken ruin on Megatron's floor, he didn't realize that Megatron had come up behind him until he was shoved roughly forward.

He stumbled, his hands flying out to catch himself, striking the flat surface of the berth an astrosecond before his cockpit did, a sharp _crack_ announcing the impact, followed by the _clank_ of his knees hitting the floor, ending up bent over the high plinth in a humiliatingly vulnerable position, his back and wings exposed. He immediately attempted to rise, to right himself out of sheer reflex, only to be shoved forcefully back down.

He froze and remained where he was, too frightened to move, his spark pulsing in panic, his circuits singing in terror. Was _this_ how it was going to be? Rough? _Painful?_ Was Megatron just going to –?

The hand on his back holding him pinned began to move, sliding over his right wing in a slow caress, triggering an uneasy shiver of instinctive arousal that conflicted with his rising fear. A second hand repeated the motion on the opposite wing, and Thundercracker shuddered in response, torn between pleasure and revulsion.

Megatron emitted a low growling sound that Thundercracker interpreted as approval, continuing to stroke and fondle his wings as he remained passively in the position Megatron obviously wanted him in. _Just let him do whatever he wants,_ he thought. _If you don't slag him off, you might still get through this in one piece._ Thus resolved, he was able to relax a little, letting some of the tension ease from his servos.

The persistent touches continued, stimulating the highly-tuned sensor webs in his wings. They were a little more forceful than Thundercracker generally preferred at the outset, but the attention being paid to those sensitive appendages was arousing nonetheless, causing his circuits to heat and his core temperature to rise. Megatron obviously knew how to touch a Seeker; the air of confidence he exuded as he pinched and tweaked Thundercracker's wingtips was almost palpable.

A low moan escaped his vocalizer when Megatron flicked his left aileron. He bit it back instinctively, and then immediately regretted it. Did Megatron _want_ him to moan, to know that Thundercracker was enjoying what he was doing to him? Or would it be better to remain silent, to allow Megatron to use him like a pleasure drone, giving no indication of sentient will?

Megatron chose that moment to bend that same aileron, flexing it gently but firmly, and Thundercracker couldn't hold back the second, louder moan that emerged in response to the surge of pleasure the action produced. He froze again, his spark pulsing wildly in its chamber, waiting for Megatron's reaction.

The only response was another low, growling rumble. Thundercracker relaxed marginally. Evidently Megatron was satisfied with his response, or at least not angered by it. One hurdle down.

_Skywarp would probably enjoy this,_ he thought wryly as Megatron's hands continued to rove over his wings, moaning when the urge seized him, now reasonably confident that it was acceptable to do so. He'd actually done something similar to Skywarp in the past, bending him over the berth, holding him down while he – _don't think about that!_ he thought urgently, but it was too late – the burst of arousal the memory triggered was already coursing through his circuitry, causing him to groan and shift his hips reflexively.

Megatron noticed the reaction, no doubt concluding his efforts had been the source. The hand on his right wing drifted down to Thundercracker's hip plate, sliding over his aft and then between his thighs, groping his panel.

Thundercracker offlined his optics in consternation, consumed by dread even as he transmitted the command to retract the panel and expose his interface array. He didn't want to, but it was the response Megatron was expecting, and Thundercracker didn't want to risk invoking his ire by refusing to open up.

He yelped as two fingers were shoved forcefully into his valve, his hydraulics pressurizing in response. It didn't _hurt_, exactly – the earlier stimulation of his wings had caused his valve to produce a small amount of lubricant – but the unexpected and unfamiliar sensation was abrupt and startling. No one had ever put their fingers in his valve before; in the course of his limited experience, it had always been straight to business.

Megatron paused as Thundercracker mentally cursed himself, humiliated by his reaction. His hands ceased their movement, although his fingers did not withdraw. "You're tight," he commented.

"Uh…yes sir," he said. "Sorry, sir."

Megatron made that growling sound again and resumed his efforts, pumping his fingers slowly but firmly in out of Thundercracker's valve, his other hand roaming once more over Thundercracker's left wing.

The continued attention to his wing felt good, but the stimulation to his valve was…uncomfortable. Megatron's fingers felt too large, their movements too forceful. It wasn't painful, but it wasn't particularly pleasant, either. If it had been Skywarp doing it to him, Thundercracker would have told him to slag off.

That wasn't really an option, here.

After a few kliks, it got a little better. Not because Megatron had eased up any – if anything the fingering grew rougher, more demanding – but it did stimulate an increased production of lubricant as his valve attempted to defend itself against the invasion, to prevent damage from occurring as a result of the excessive friction.

Of course Megatron had no way of knowing that, and Thundercracker wasn't about to tell him. His valve was lubricating heavily, and his occasional grunts of discomfort could easily be mistaken for sounds of pleasure or encouragement. For all Megatron knew, Thundercracker was having a wonderful time.

He almost wished he _was_. It would have made this so much easier.

Megatron appeared to be enjoying himself, at least; Thundercracker heard the Decepticon leader's internal cooling fans switch on sometime during the course of the seemingly endless fingering, signaling Megatron's steadily growing arousal. He was making that growling sound again, too, which Thundercracker now interpreted as an expression of lust.

He shuddered with revulsion, praying it would all be over soon.

At long last, the fingers finally withdrew from his valve, and Thundercracker practically sagged with relief – until he heard the soft _snick_ of Megatron's panel retracting.

His spark quailed at the sound. _Here it comes,_ he thought grimly, bracing himself for the inevitable. _Primus, please – just don't let it hurt too much._ He tensed as Megatron seized hold of his hip plate, biting down on his lip component, determined not to cry out, no matter how much it hurt –

Megatron entered him roughly, or tried to; his spike slid partway into Thundercracker's valve and then halted abruptly, failing to penetrate him fully. Megatron grunted and thrust again, forcefully enough to shove Thundercracker up against the side of the berth, but proceeded no further. Thundercracker's fingers clutched vainly at the smooth surface, struggling to find a purchase as Megatron tried again, leaning his full weight into him, endeavoring to achieve with a firm, solid _push_ what he'd been unable to accomplish with a swift, sharp thrust.

The results were the same.

"You are resisting me," Megatron said, low and dangerous.

"No sir," he gasped out, his vocalizer strained by the effort it took to speak. Even with only half of Megatron's spike inside him, Thundercracker could tell it was _huge_. Definitely bigger than Skywarp's, or any of the few others he'd taken. Primus, what if Megatron was _too_ big? What if he just didn't _fit?_ He already felt stretched to his limit, his valve suffused with a dull ache as it struggled to accommodate the intrusion, and Megatron wasn't even fully inside him!

"Are you suggesting I lie?" Megatron said. The implied threat was unmistakable.

"No sir," he insisted, his spark pulsing in panic, his processor racing as he tried desperately to come up with a way out of this situation that wouldn't get him slagged. If Megatron was too big to 'face him, what could he do? Should he offer to use his mouth–?

"Then _submit_," Megatron hissed.

"I'm _trying_ to, sir," he gritted out, fear and desperation giving way to agonized frustration. "I'm – I'm not _used_ to this," he admitted, his circuits burning with mortification.

Megatron was silent for a long, tense moment, absorbing this information while Thundercracker fought to calm himself. He wasn't going to beg and grovel like Starscream. He'd take his beating like a mech. He could handle the pain. Pain was _nothing_. He wished now that there _had_ been pain – it would have been better than this abject _humiliation._

"You're not like your trinemates," Megatron said finally, and to Thundercracker's relief, he sounded less angry than he had a moment before.

"No sir," he said. Maybe he _would_ get through this in one piece. Maybe Megatron would give up on the idea of 'facing him, opt to dismiss him and wait for Skywarp –

A hand lifted from his hip plate, reaching around to caress his spike housing.

_Oh, no,_ he thought, his spark quailing. _Don't do that._

But Megatron obviously _was_ doing that, stimulating the forward sensors of his interface array, coaxing his spike to extend. A faint whimper escaped him as Megatron's fingers wrapped around it, squeezing firmly, stroking along its length.

Thundercracker shuddered, flinching back against him and actually causing Megatron's spike to slip marginally deeper inside of him. Having Megatron touch him like that was just too…_personal_. It seemed stupid to feel that way, what with Megatron's spike still jammed halfway up his valve, but Thundercracker did, much to his own chagrin.

_Relax_, he thought urgently. _He's trying to get you to relax so he can get in your valve. If you let him, maybe he'll stop doing that before he overloads you. _Relax._ Relaxrelaxrelax–_

It was difficult – incredibly, insanely difficult – but after a klik or two he managed to will some of the tension out of his frame, to lay limp and unresisting against the berth. Evidently noticing the decrease in pressure surrounding his spike, Megatron let go of Thundercracker's – which retracted almost immediately – and gripped his hip plate again, leaning into him once more.

His spike slid smoothly into Thundercracker's valve, penetrating him to the hilt, meeting no resistance.

Megatron growled in approval, and began to thrust.

It stood to reason, he mused, that a warrior as ancient and formidable as Megatron, supreme commander of the Decepticon forces, would have incomparable stamina, but after several breems of relentless pounding, Thundercracker's valve was beginning to ache under the assault. The prolonged and continuous friction was nudging his initial discomfort steadily closer to the point of legitimate pain.

His knees were getting sore too, and he was pretty sure he'd kinked a wire somewhere in the vicinity of his backstrut from being bent over the berth for so long, but Thundercracker had no intention of complaining about any of it. He hadn't expected to enjoy this – he just needed to ensure that _Megatron_ did, and Megatron was, if his cycling fans and rhythmic growls were any indication – so he endured in silence, waiting patiently for him to finish.

Megatron suddenly drew back and gave a particularly hard thrust, startling him enough to force a low grunt from his vocalizer. It was immediately followed by another, and Thundercracker felt a flare of hope. It was almost over –

Megatron abruptly straightened, withdrawing from his valve completely.

Thundercracker was baffled. He was quite certain Megatron hadn't overloaded, so why had he stopped? "Sir..?" he asked hesitantly.

"Get on the berth," Megatron said.

Get on the berth? He was already _on_ the – oh. He pulled himself up off the floor, bringing a knee up onto the flat surface –

"No," Megatron said, "On your back."

He froze at the command, his optics widening in alarm. His previous position may have been demeaning, but at least it had afforded him the luxury of not having to school his expression, of not having to actually _look_ at Megatron while he fragged him. "Yes sir," he said reluctantly, turning around cautiously for the sake of his wings, and settling back onto the berth as ordered, his hands at his sides.

Megatron climbed onto the berth after him, and Thundercracker allowed his thighs to fall open, demonstrating his compliance. He'd avoided looking directly at Megatron now that he'd regained the ability to do so, but as he joined him Thundercracker couldn't resist hazarding a glance downward. He didn't really want to, but a sort of morbid curiosity compelled him to look anyway, to see Megatron's massive spike with his own optics. Primus, it had to be huge, bordering on _legendary_. It was probably –

…just a little bigger than Skywarp's, actually. Only slightly larger than his own.

The revelation was bewildering – why in the Pit had it _felt_ so big? – but it did make it easier to remain calm and relaxed as Megatron moved over him, placing his hands flat against the berth just above Thundercracker's wings, half-propping himself above him as he maneuvered his hip plate into position between Thundercracker's parted thighs. When Thundercracker felt the tip of Megatron's spike brush against the rim of his valve, he averted his gaze, not wanting to watch as it slid into him.

Megatron entered him swiftly, betraying a hint of impatience, and Thundercracker suppressed another grunt of discomfort. Megatron immediately resumed his previous pace, pumping rapidly in and out of his aching valve, fragging him with vigorous thrusts while Thundercracker fought to conceal his revulsion, praying it didn't show on his faceplate.

He didn't know what to do with his hands. He didn't want to touch Megatron – he was pretty sure he'd pull back a sparking stump if he tried it – but Megatron was hammering him hard enough to cause him to slide back and forth across the slick metal surface of the berth, scraping his wings, and that was annoying, yet another uncomfortable sensation to add to Thundercracker's growing list of physical complaints.

He stared stoically up at the ceiling, concentrating on keeping his expression as blank as possible. He didn't think he had it in him to act like he was enjoying himself. Feigning pleasure seemed like a risky proposition anyway – if Megatron caught on to the deception, it might anger him _more._

_Not again,_ he thought despairingly as Megatron once more grunted and paused in his rhythm, sitting up. To Thundercracker's utter mortification, Megatron proceeded to grab hold of his legs just behind the knee-joint, hoisting them up and outward, lifting his hip plate partway off the berth and leaving him feeling even more exposed and vulnerable than before.

Evidently satisfied, Megatron began thrusting into him once more, and Thundercracker briefly debated whether it would have been better to have simply refused outright and gotten pounded into scrap metal instead of getting pounded into the berth. At the moment he was leaning toward the former. This new position was even more uncomfortable than the last; with every stroke Megatron's spike jabbed into a particularly sensitive node in his valve, and those strokes were coming harder and faster with every passing astrosecond.

"Look at me," Megatron hissed, his intakes laboring.

Fighting not to wince every time Megatron's spike shoved into him and struggling to keep the strain from his vocalizer, Thundercracker said, "Yes sir," and complied. Megatron's optics were blazing with lust, casting a reddish glow over their conjoined frames, his gaze disturbingly intense.

Thundercracker held it nonetheless as Megatron's rhythm began to falter, staring up at him unwillingly. He knew the precise moment Megatron reached his peak, saw it in his optics an astrosecond before he felt the searing burst of fluids spurting deep within in his valve, hot and slick and repellent.

Megatron slumped over him with a satiated groan as Thundercracker struggled to override the desire to purge his roiling fuel tanks in disgust. He could feel Megatron's fluids settling within him, a sensation even more disgusting than having one of those squishy, flightless organics squirming in his cockpit, but it was over. Thank Primus, it was finally, finally _over_.

Megatron stirred a moment later – he hadn't offlined – and lifted off of him, releasing his hold on his legs and lowering them back to the berth. His spike retracted, for which Thundercracker was profoundly grateful, even though the sensation of it withdrawing made him twitch in discomfort.

"You didn't overload," Megatron said in a strangely neutral tone.

_Oh, frag_, he thought, his spark clenching. Had Megatron actually _expected_ him to? Maybe he _should_ have faked it – but it was too late for that now. He opted for simple honesty instead. "No sir," he said. "I usually don't, that way."

Megatron hummed contemplatively, studying him for a long, tense moment before rising from the berth, absently closing his panel as he made his way to the refueling station and dispensed a cube.

Thundercracker seized the opportunity to close his own panel and sit up, putting himself back in order. When he looked up, he was surprised to find Megatron once more standing in front of him, holding out the energon cube he'd just dispensed in offering.

Thundercracker accepted it awkwardly. "Thank you, sir," he muttered.

"You performed well," Megatron said as Thundercracker took a hesitant sip from the cube. As he'd suspected, the energon was very high quality, smooth and refined.

"Thank you, sir," he said again, taking another sip.

"Your valve has not seen much use," Megatron commented, almost conversationally.

"No sir," he said, feeling both mortified and relieved. Thank Primus, at least he wasn't angry.

"That pleases me," Megatron said, nearly making him choke on his energon.

He didn't really know how to respond to that, so he simply nodded.

"You're dismissed," Megatron said.

Thundercracker could have fallen over from the sheer _relief_ those two words inspired in him. Subspacing the remainder of the cube, he got to his feet. "Thank you, sir," he said.

He made his way to the door, moving at a carefully moderate pace, not wanting to appear too eager to leave. First stop, the washracks, and then –

Megatron spoke as he activated the mechanism to open the door. "Next time, you will overload," he said.

Thundercracker froze in his tracks. _Next time?_ he thought despairingly. The words held an unmistakable tone of command. The implied "or else" was clearly evident.

"Yes sir," he said, and stepped out into the corridor.

He was slagged.

* * *

He spent almost a joor in the washracks.

He couldn't seem to get clean enough, no matter how much or how vigorously he scrubbed.

His valve hurt like the Pit. The pain was a constant reminder of what had been done to him, a raw, persistent ache between his thighs that refused to go away, even after he diverted additional resources to his regenerative systems to speed the repair.

He recalled his prior musings about Starscream, about his theory that Starscream liked pain. That would certainly explain why Starscream was such a valve mech. Starscream probably _enjoyed_ aching like this, feeling the aftereffects of his last interface long after it had concluded.

…but that didn't explain why Skywarp liked it, or why _he_ had when Skywarp had done it to him.

He threw down the brush in disgust. He'd actually been considering letting Skywarp do it _again_ a few joors ago, of letting him have another shot at his valve. It had…it had felt really _good_ when Skywarp did it, intense and intimate in a way interfacing with his spike had never been. He'd ached a little afterward, but it had been a different kind of ache, almost…pleasant.

His first time had been _painful_ in a way that ranked up alongside some of his more serious combat injuries, but it had been over with quickly, ending so abruptly Thundercracker scarcely knew what had happened to him, only that he _hurt_ and felt unclean and vaguely _used_ as he was dismissed. He'd heard that was normal, that the first time was always like that for a valve interface. At the time he'd wondered why anyone would bother. It seemed incomprehensible that anyone would want to do it that way.

But most mechs didn't seem to mind doing it occasionally – some even appeared to _like_ it – so out of sheer curiosity, he'd tried again. It hadn't been anywhere near as painful as the first time, but he hadn't really enjoyed it, either. Vague discomfort, a lot of rubbing, foreign fluids in places he didn't really want them – nothing he couldn't tolerate. He just didn't _like_ it. And that seemed fine, perfectly normal – most mechs had a preference for spike interfacing, anyway. Those who didn't – well, maybe they were just wired differently.

Until now, he'd always assumed the reason his first time had been so…_unpleasant_ was because it _was_ the first time. But this time had been…uncomfortably similar in a lot of ways. An unanticipated summons from a superior officer, being held down, the humiliation, fear of reprisal – they'd even both commented appreciatively on how _tight_ he was, although Steelwing had seemed particularly delighted to discover Thundercracker still had an intact seal.

That was probably why he'd felt so sickened this time, so certain that it was going to _hurt_.

There were _some_ differences, though. He had more experience now, he'd known more or less what to expect. That had helped. He'd been pinned to a berth instead of a desk. Megatron had lasted a lot longer than Steelwing, but he hadn't hurt him as much, even though there'd been moments when Thundercracker was certain he was going to.

He hadn't been reduced to begging for mercy, pleading with Megatron to stop.

He was grateful for that, at least. He was fortunate Megatron hadn't hurt him the way Steelwing had. He doubted he would have been able to endure it.

But he didn't want to do it again. _Next time,_ Megatron had said. His fuel tank churned at the thought, his spark clenching in dread. He wouldn't do it; he'd take the beating instead. Anything would be better than going through _that_ again.

Switching off the spray of solvent, which had long since gone cold, he shook himself to disperse the excess liquid and departed the washracks, disdaining the dryer.

He wanted to be back in his quarters. He wanted to be alone.


	3. Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The spark wants what the spark wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer**: I don't own Transformers.  
> **Warning(s)**: Comfort sex (Decepticon style), sparksex, references to rape.

**Part 3: Yours**

Thundercracker was slouched on the berth in his quarters, trying to focus on the datapad in his hands and ignore the nagging ache in his valve, when Skywarp returned.

"Hey, TC," Skywarp greeted him.

"Hey, 'Warp," he replied absently. "How'd it go?"

"Got it," Skywarp replied smugly. "Stupid squishies never even knew what hit 'em."

"Good job," he said, not raising his optics from the datapad.

Skywarp plucked it out of his hands, "You been reading all day? Sheesh, TC; you're so _boring._"

He glared at him. Skywarp responded by tossing the datapad over his shoulder-vent and climbing on top of him, pressing in close, getting right in his faceplate. "Missed you," he said, low and suggestive.

He pushed him away. "Not in the mood, 'Warp."

"Aw, c'mon, TC!" Skywarp replied, pawing at his wings and grinding enthusiastically against him. "I've been on my own all day! I'm all wound up, I wanna 'face."

"I don't," he said coldly.

Skywarp grinned. "Not _yet_ you don't," he said slyly, reaching down to grope his panel.

Thundercracker hit him.

His optics widened in shock even as his fist crashed into Skywarp's faceplate, knocking him clean off the berth. He hadn't meant to do that; he hadn't meant to _hit_ 'Warp – he hadn't even been doing anything all that annoying!

"What the _frag_, TC!" Skywarp said from the floor, sounding aggrieved and more than a little torqued off as he struggled to his feet. "I should kick your skidplate for that!"

"You could _try_," he growled back, but he didn't mean it.

Skywarp opened his mouth to issue a retort, raising a fist to hit him; Thundercracker met his optics squarely, challenging him with his gaze.

The blow never came. Skywarp's fist quivered for a moment in midair, and then lowered. "What is _with_ you, TC?" he asked. "You suck a bird up your turbines, or what?"

Thundercracker flinched inwardly at his tone. Skywarp sounded almost painfully bewildered. An unfamiliar surge of guilt rose up in his spark, smothering his mild irritation. He was being an aft; he knew that. Skywarp hadn't done anything to slag him off; hitting him had been pure reflex.

Skywarp stared at him for a moment more, then sat down on his berth with a huff, regarding him with that reproachful, kicked-turbopuppy look he got when Thundercracker refused to help with one of his pranks.

The feeling of guilt grew. He'd been looking forward to seeing Skywarp when Megatron had issued his summons; he'd known at the time 'Warp would be equally eager to see him. He tried to imagine how he'd feel if 'Warp had returned and greeted _him_ with a cold glare and a punch in the faceplate.

"C'mere, dimspark," he grumbled begrudgingly.

Skywarp beamed and bounced up off the berth, tackling him. Thundercracker grunted as he suddenly found himself with an armful of enthusiastic Seeker. "What's the matter, TC?" Skywarp crooned teasingly, groping for his wings. "You miss me that much? Huh?"

He shook his helm in resignation, smiling in spite of himself. "Yeah, 'Warp. I missed you."

Skywarp laughed at that, clearly delighted. An astrosecond later, his expression shifted from smug and playful to dark and seductive. "You wanna 'face me?" he purred suggestively.

"Yeah," he said. It wasn't a lie; with Skywarp pressed this close to him, his circuits had begun to heat up a little. He reached up to trace Skywarp's intakes, rumbling with desire.

Skywarp leaned eagerly into the touch, stroking his wings.

Thundercracker groaned, pressing into his hands, leaning forward to grind his cockpit against Skywarp's. Why had he been so resistant? This was _nice._

But then Skywarp flexed one of his ailerons, and amid the surge of pleasure Thundercracker was unpleasantly reminded of _other_ hands, other touches recently bestowed on him, touches that had been far less welcome. He drew back slightly, uncertain. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea…

Skywarp frowned when his efforts failed to elicit the response he was expecting, but a moment later he grinned wickedly, his optics lighting with lascivious mischief. Pulling away from Thundercracker's hands, he sat up and edged backward, reaching down to rub Thundercracker's panel. "Open up," he said.

Thundercracker eyed him warily. The last time Skywarp had said that to him, 'Warp had used his glossa – on his _valve_. Thundercracker had never felt anything like it – it had felt _incredible_, so good that by the time he'd stopped, Thundercracker would have done virtually _anything_ to feel Skywarp's spike inside him. He'd wanted 'Warp in his valve so _badly_ it was almost frightening, but in the end it had been worth it – he'd overloaded _hard_ when Skywarp finally jacked in, so hard he'd nearly offlined. And as unbelievable as _that_ was, a few kliks later, Skywarp had overloaded him _again_.

The memory alone made him shiver with lust, a slow shudder running through his frame.

But in spite of that, he was hesitant to comply. The ache in his valve had diminished only slightly in the intervening joors, and while Skywarp's attentions that day had felt good enough to make Thundercracker temporarily forget the pain of the injuries he'd had at the time, those injuries hadn't been to his valve. As sore as it was now, the mere thought of letting Skywarp 'face him made him want to wince.

Skywarp noticed his reluctance and started pouting, eyeing him sulkily. "C'mon, TC," he said petulantly, drawing out his nickname in a wheedling whine. "Starscream's not the only one who can suck a spike; I'm good at it too!"

Suck a – _oh. That_ was different, not to mention highly appealing. He'd assumed Skywarp was after his valve, but that obviously wasn't the case. He transmitted the command to retract his panel without a second thought, rumbling in anticipation as his spike extended.

Skywarp keened eagerly, holding his gaze as he maneuvered himself into position to take him into his mouth. Thundercracker groaned as 'Warp's lip components closed around his spike, drawing him in, his optics dimming as he gave himself over to the sensation. Skywarp hummed as he worked him with a steady rhythm, his hands sliding up Thundercracker's thighs, urging them further apart.

Thundercracker complied with the tacit request, spreading his legs wider and suppressing a wince as the movement put pressure on his damaged valve, sending a sharp twinge of pain shooting through his circuits, drawing a soft grunt from his vocalizer. He did his best to ignore the painful reminder and focus on the pleasure 'Warp was providing him, reaching down to stroke Skywarp's helm with an encouraging rumble. He wasn't going to think about Megatron. He was going to relax and enjoy this –

Skywarp hummed eagerly around his spike, leaning in closer to try and take in more of him – inadvertently placing most of his weight onto Thundercracker's parted thighs.

Thundercracker twitched and cried out, his spike retracting abruptly in response to the sudden burst of unexpected pain, the damaged sensors in his valve singing a strident chorus of agony.

Skywarp's optics widened in surprise – and then narrowed in suspicion.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Skywarp was already moving, seizing his legs and yanking them upward, hoisting Thundercracker half off the berth with a reverberating snarl.

Far from pleased at being so rudely upended, Thundercracker immediately began to struggle, clawing at the berth and nearly kicking 'Warp in the faceplate as he endeavored to free himself, but his hands couldn't get a purchase on the smooth metal; he didn't have the leverage he needed to escape Skywarp's determined grip.

"Let go of me, 'Warp!" he bellowed threateningly. He felt unspeakably vulnerable, his spark pulsing in apprehension – the position Skywarp had him in was disturbingly reminiscent of the one Megatron had chosen – "Let go of me, or I swear I'll kick your fragging head in!"

Skywarp ignored his threats and protests, nimbly ducking the kicks Thundercracker aimed at his helm, his attention focused on Thundercracker's interface array.

"Your valve is scuffed, TC," Skywarp said quietly.

Thundercracker's spark sank. He ceased his struggles, going limp in Skywarp's hold. "Let go of me," he said again. This time it wasn't a threat.

Skywarp released him abruptly; he fell back to the berth with a loud _clank_.

His circuits burning with humiliation at Skywarp's impromptu inspection, Thundercracker sheepishly closed his panel and sat up, glancing nervously at his trinemate.

He couldn't see his face. Skywarp had turned his back on him. 'Warp's hands were clenched into fists, his posture tense, his wings quivering minutely.

"'Warp –?" he ventured hesitantly.

"You just couldn't wait, huh TC?" Skywarp said bitterly.

"What are you talking about?" he said, frowning in confusion. Wait for _what?_

"Who was it?" Skywarp asked, his vocalizer low and strained, trying for casual but coming out forced.

"'Warp, what –"

Skywarp rounded on him, his optics blazing a livid crimson. "_Who. Was it?_" he demanded.

Thundercracker's optics widened in shock. Skywarp was _angry._ Angrier than he'd ever seen him. "'Warp, come on –" he began.

"Couldn't have been _Screamer_," Skywarp spat venomously, his lip components contorting into a scowl. "_He'd_ never do it, not in a million vorns. So who was it? Who'd you let 'face you?"

Thundercracker stared at him, stunned. A curious _pulse_ ran through his spark. 'Warp wasn't just angry, he was _incensed_, literally trembling with ill-concealed rage. It didn't make _sense_. 'Warp had never cared who he 'faced before – although admittedly Thundercracker didn't get around nearly as much as Skywarp himself did – so why was he slagged off now? "What difference does it make?" he asked defensively.

"_I'm_ the one who gets your valve, TC!" Skywarp shouted. "Not some other fragger, _me!_" he said, indicating himself with a jerk of his thumb.

Thundercracker couldn't believe his audials. Skywarp was _jealous_, angered by the thought of some other mech gaining Thundercracker's attentions, enraged at the discovery of evidence that Thundercracker had been fragged by someone else!

…jealous the way _he'd_ been jealous whenever 'Warp went flitting off to get his gears stripped by some other mech, or when he'd leave their quarters abruptly – sometimes in the middle of an interface – to respond to one of Megatron's...service requests.

Thundercracker had always been ashamed of those feelings, of his own weakness for having them. He wasn't supposed to care about that; Decepticons _never_ cared about things like that, never forged personal ties –

The revelation made his spark swell with sudden, inexplicable _joy_.

_Skywarp was jealous of _him_, too._

"'Warp…" he said softly, overcome by emotion. "I –"

"_Who was it_, TC?" Skywarp persisted, unaware of his epiphany. "I wanna know who it was! Who's the fragger you liked _so much_ you couldn't wait for me, you just _had_ to open up and spread 'em?"

Thundercracker's circuits heated in outrage. Skywarp thought he'd _wanted_ to be fragged? That he'd actually gone _looking_ for it?! "I didn't have a _choice_, you stupid –!" he blurted out before he could stop himself, muting his vocalizer an astrosecond too late to contain the inadvertent admission.

Skywarp stiffened, his optics widening. An astrosecond later they narrowed again, and 'Warp looked, if possible, even _angrier_ than before. "I'll _kill_ him," he growled viciously. "Tell me who it was, TC!" he demanded. "I swear, I'll rip that fragger's spark right out of his chamber! Who was it? Who forced you?"

His spark surged with another irrational burst of joy at Skywarp's words, even as his processor declared them an empty threat. Even if it hadn't been Megatron, even if it'd been what Skywarp assumed, a fellow soldier assaulting another, not simply a superior exercising his right to command a subordinate, he knew Skywarp would never do it. For all his faults, Skywarp was _loyal_ – perhaps the most loyal 'Con in the ranks. He'd never murder another Decepticon, not for something so…so _petty._

"It was Megatron," he said. "While you were gone he summoned me to his quarters."

"Oh," Skywarp said, visibly wilting, his anger dissipating like smoke. He slouched back against the wall, his shoulder-vents slumping in defeat.

Thundercracker did the same. Their wingtips scraped with the movement.

For several kliks they sat in tense silence, not looking at one another.

"So, uh…Megatron commed you, huh?" Skywarp ventured cautiously.

He glanced over at him, but 'Warp wasn't looking at him. He was staring up at the ceiling, studiously avoiding his gaze and looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Yeah," he said. "He commed me."

"What about Starscream?" Skywarp asked.

"Repair bay," he said shortly. "Fragged him off right after you left, told him his new plan wasn't worth scrap or something, got slagged for it. I don't know the details. Didn't ask."

"Huh," Skywarp said. "Guess that makes sense. Never thought he'd comm _you_ though."

"Neither did I," he rumbled bitterly. "Dunno know why he did."

"He likes Seekers," Skywarp said with a shrug. "Ol' Megs, he's got a thing for Seekers."

"Yeah. I kinda got that," he replied dryly. The way Megatron had touched him had suggested intimate knowledge of a Seeker's frame. It wasn't an uncommon fetish among Cybertronians; Seekers were considered highly attractive, and had a reputation for always being up for a 'face or a 'facing. "Probably figures we're all the same," he muttered.

"Yeah, I guess," Skywarp said. "He definitely knows what he's doing though, all the right spots..." He trailed off, falling silent for a few astroseconds, then spoke up again haltingly, "You, uh…you probably liked it a lot, huh? Him 'facing you?"

Thundercracker turned his helm to stare at him incredulously, but Skywarp still wasn't looking at him. His gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, his lip components curved in a faint, worried frown.

"Was he…" Skywarp laughed nervously, reset his vocalizer and tried again. "D-did you like it better with him than with me? Is that…is that why you don't wanna 'face me now?"

He couldn't believe his audials. "I didn't _like_ it _at all_," he said, using his patented 'Warp-you're-an-idiot tone, carefully enunciating each word.

Skywarp finally looked at him, meeting his gaze with startled optics. "You didn't?"

"_No,_" he replied emphatically. "It sucked slag."

Skywarp looked shocked, confused, and faintly dubious. "But…Megatron's _good_ in the berth," he said. "I mean _really_ good. And he's – you honestly didn't _like_ it?"

"No," he repeated with exaggerated patience. "I didn't like it."

Skywarp looked nonplussed. "Not even when he overloaded you?"

"He _didn't_ overload me, dimspark," he retorted derisively. "He _fragged_ me. And I didn't _like_ it, because I _never_ like it. I _hate_ being fragged in the valve."

Skywarp stared at him, taken aback. "You liked it when I did it," he said reproachfully.

He huffed irritably, his circuits heating with embarrassment. "That was different," he muttered.

"How?" Skywarp sounded genuinely puzzled.

He rumbled in frustration. "I don't know, 'Warp," he said impatiently. "It just _was._"

Silence.

Thundercracker couldn't really blame Skywarp for his confusion – he shared it. He honestly didn't _know_ why it had been different those times 'Warp had done it to him; it should have been the same as it always was, the way it had been the first time he let 'Warp have his valve. That night in the brig, that day he'd been shot down –

"Was he angry?" Skywarp asked suddenly, interrupting his thoughts. "When Megatron commed you, did he seem torqued off?"

He gave him a puzzled glance. "Not really," he replied. He thought for a moment, and shrugged. "Maybe a little."

"So when you got there, he just jacked in?"

He shook his helm, "No, he – I _thought_ he was going to; he pushed me down on the berth – but then he just started feeling up my wings."

"Hard, or soft?" 'Warp asked.

He thought about it a moment. "Hard, I guess," he said. "But not _too_ hard," he amended. "It was rougher than I normally like, but it wasn't – it didn't hurt or anything."

Skywarp turned to face him fully, placing his palm flat against Thundercracker's wing at the juncture where it met his chassis. "Like this?" he asked, pressing hard as he slid his hand along its length, concluding the stroke by wrapping his fingers around the tip and squeezing firmly.

Thundercracker's core temperature spiked, and he gasped and shuddered at the wave of pleasure being fed back through the stimulated sensor nodes. "Yeah," he said, his vocalizer clouded with a hint of static.

"And you didn't _like_ that?" Skywarp asked in amazement.

Thundercracker wasn't offended by the question; because of the way they were wired, the layout of their sensor nets, few Seekers would turn down a request to interface after a little wing play, regardless of who was giving it. That was just the way it was. "Well, yeah," he admitted with a half-shrug. "That part was okay."

"But then he jacked in?" Skywarp guessed, continuing to stroke his wing slowly, almost lazily.

"No, he –" Primus, this was embarrassing. He grimaced, shifting uneasily, leaning unconsciously into Skywarp's touch, into the comforting warmth emanating from his frame. "When I opened up, he…he stuck his fingers in me. You know."

Skywarp seemed surprised. His hand paused in its movement. "Did you like that?"

"No," he said.

The hand resumed its gentle stroking. "It hurt?" Skywarp asked.

"…not exactly."

"So it felt good?"

"No, it felt like he was shoving his slagging fingers up my valve," he snapped irritably. "He did that for, I don't know, at least a breem – felt like slagging _forever_ – _then_ he jacked in."

"Oh," Skywarp said, edging closer.

"Tried to, anyway," he muttered, reaching for 'Warp's cockpit, absently running a hand over it.

Skywarp drew back slightly to stare at him in bewilderment. "_Tried_ to?"

He shrugged uncomfortably, focusing his attention on his hand sliding over the yellow glass of Skywarp's cockpit, on his fingers tracing the seams. "I didn't try to stop him or anything," he said. "He just…he just didn't _fit_. Couldn't get in all the way."

"Oh," Skywarp said again, giving a little hum of encouragement in response to his touch.

"He's sort of...big," he added lamely, still stroking. He wasn't, really. But he'd _felt_ big.

"Yeah," Skywarp said reminiscently, his lip components twitching into a goofy grin as he arched into his hand with a groan. "Yeah, he is."

Thundercracker gave him an exasperated look. He wasn't about to admit how _scared_ he'd been, how certain he was Megatron was going to slag him, but it would have been nice if 'Warp could have at least shown a _little_ sympathy.

Skywarp's expression sobered. "Did he get slagged off when he couldn't get in?" he asked. "Is that when he started hurting you?"

"Kind of," he said. "Said I was resisting him. I told him I wasn't, that I just wasn't used to it. Being fragged, I mean."

"Did he believe you?"

"I guess," he replied. "At first he didn't say anything. Then he –" he broke off abruptly.

"What?"

"He went for my spike," he muttered sheepishly.

"Wow," Skywarp said, easing into his lap, straddling his thighs. "You're lucky – he never touches mine."

"I didn't feel lucky," he grumbled. "I felt like an idiot."

Skywarp's hand drifted down to his panel, caressing it lightly, entreatingly. "But you like that, don't you?"

His panel clicked open obligingly, his spike extending into 'Warp's waiting hand. "Usually, yeah."

Skywarp's fingers curled around it, stroking along its length, drawing a faint groan from his vocalizer. "So you didn't like that, either?" he asked.

"I didn't like _him_ doing it," he said, shifting his hip plate a little, pushing into 'Warp's hand. "It didn't _feel_ right, him touching me like that."

"You said you didn't overload," Skywarp mused, his hand pumping idly, his movements slow and languid. "Did you tell him to stop?"

He made a derisive noise. "Yeah, right," he replied. "Mostly I just tried to relax. Figured he'd leave off my spike if he could get in my valve. I was right."

"And that's when he fragged you?"

"Yeah," he said. "Took him forever to finish, and he kept making me move around, but in the end he got off and told me I could go."

"He didn't hurt you? I thought he hurt you."

"A little," he said with a shrug. "Mainly because he _took_ so slagging long. Plus the last position he had me in was kind of – he kept poking me in a really sensitive spot."

Skywarp's hand paused in its motion, eliciting a groan of disappointment. "Sort of on top, kinda towards the back?" he asked, cocking his helm inquiringly.

"Yeah," he said. "Practically pounded me through the slagging berth. Scraped my wings up, too."

"Oh," Skywarp said, frowning faintly.

"Could have been worse," he said with a shrug.

Skywarp's frown deepened. "I guess," he said, eyeing him thoughtfully.

"Could have been a _lot_ worse, believe me," he said, shifting his hips a little to nudge 'Warp's hand with his spike, a not-too-subtle reminder not to get distracted from the task at hand.

Skywarp let go, much to his disappointment. But before he could protest, 'Warp opened his panel and lifted off of him, positioning himself over his spike and then easing back down again, engulfing him in the snug, slick heat of his valve.

Thundercracker groaned approvingly as he slid into him. Skywarp's valve felt warm, safe and familiar, his sigh of pleasure soothing to Thundercracker's audials. He ran his hands up 'Warp's thighs, resting them on his hip plate as 'Warp began to rock gently in his lap.

"Mmmm," Skywarp hummed appreciatively, his internal fans switching on. "You feel so good, TC. You always feel so good."

Thundercracker groaned again, his own cooling fans activating, his hands moving from 'Warp's hip plate to his wings, gently flexing the ailerons as he leaned in close to mouth his cockpit. "So do you," he rumbled back.

"Wanted to make you feel like this," Skywarp moaned, rocking faster. "Wanted to be the only one."

He lifted his helm to stare at him in surprise. "I've done it before, 'Warp," he said. "Maybe not a lot, but you're not the only mech to get in my valve. It's not like you broke my seal."

Skywarp paused in mid-motion. "Oh," he said, crestfallen. "Right."

He looked so disappointed Thundercracker felt compelled to offer him some form of consolation. "I never overloaded with any of them, though," he said. "I only ever overloaded with you."

Skywarp grinned at that. "Yeah," he said proudly. He resumed his rhythm, grabbing hold of Thundercracker's wings for support as he began to ride him in earnest. "Only with me," he panted. "You only overload for _me_."

The words sent a chill through his spark.

Skywarp noticed his distraction, the way he tensed beneath him. "What's wrong?"

"Megatron," he said. "I think he was annoyed that I didn't overload for him. He said…he said next time, he'd make me."

Skywarp halted abruptly, his hands stilling on Thundercracker's wings. "He said that?" he asked. "That he wanted to frag you again? That he'd overload you?"

"Yeah," he said. "But I won't do it. If he summons me again, I won't go."

Skywarp stared at him in dismay. "He'll slag you, TC."

"Probably," he agreed grimly.

Skywarp shook his helm. "No," he said, wrapping his arms around him. "TC, no."

Thundercracker embraced him in return, rolling them over and pressing him back onto the berth, his spark pulsing in its chamber. "I can handle it," he said. Megatron would most likely beat him to scrap for refusing, or worse, beat him to scrap and _then_ frag him – but he said it anyway. He'd have said anything to take that look off 'Warp's faceplate. "He won't deactivate me," he assured him. "He can't afford to – the Autobots outnumber us as it is. Starscream's done a lot worse, and he hasn't offed him. I'll be fine."

Skywarp was shaking his helm and seemed likely to argue, so Thundercracker kissed him, slow and deep, tasting the faint traces of energon on his glossa. Skywarp whimpered and clung to him, kissing him back with ardent fervor, his legs drawing up to twine around him, wrapping tightly around his waist components.

Thundercracker began to move again, thrusting into him slowly, matching the rhythm with his glossa, sucking lightly on 'Warp's lip components, his hands drifting over Skywarp's wings and cockpit, exploring every inch of him with gentle caresses.

Skywarp moaned against his mouth, rolling his hips to meet each thrust, but after a klik he broke the kiss, panting. "You have to do it, TC," he said. "You _have_ to – he won't give up – he'll _hurt_ you –"

Thundercracker drew back slightly, pausing in his rhythm to gaze down at him, drinking in the sight of him like high-grade. Primus, he was so beautiful. "I know," he said. "But I won't do it, 'Warp. Not again."

"It's just _'facing,_" 'Warp said, his tone almost pleading. "He's not so bad; you could –"

He kissed him again to muffle his entreaty, renewing his thrusts, plunging his spike deep into that warm, eager valve until Skywarp shuddered and moaned, arching beneath him.

"Stupid, stubborn slagger," Skywarp hissed, breaking free of his mouth and scraping his hands roughly over his wings, seizing hold of his ailerons and twisting them hard, making Thundercracker gasp with a mix of pain and pleasure.

"You _want_ me to do it, 'Warp?" he growled, quickening his pace, pumping his spike rapidly in and out of Skywarp's valve, punctuating his words with fierce thrusts. "Just let him _frag_ me whenever he _wants?_"

"Yes," Skywarp mewled, grinding feverishly against him, his hip plate rising to greet each stroke. "Yes, yes, _anything,_ yes!"

"You want me to overload for him, like I do for _you?_" he rumbled aggressively, pounding into him, swift and merciless. "You wanna share me with _him?_"

Skywarp gave a low, keening whine, shaking his helm, his fingers scrabbling at his wings, seeking purchase and finding none.

Thundercracker drove into him again and again, pushing ever closer to the brink, striving desperately for that moment of blissful release when time stopped and nothing mattered but those few stolen astroseconds of ecstasy, free from thought or fear or reason –

A curious hissing noise distracted him, a sound of depressurizing hydraulics and shifting metal that made him falter in his frantic rhythm, and suddenly he was bathed in a brilliant, shimmering light.

Skywarp had retracted his cockpit, exposing his spark.

"I don't wanna share, TC," Skywarp whispered, clinging to him. "I wanna be _yours_. I want something that's just ours; yours and mine."

Thundercracker stared at him in stunned disbelief, shaken to the core by the sheer _enormity_ of what Skywarp was offering him. The light of 'Warp's bared spark washed over them, a scintillating eldritch glow that pulsed and throbbed like a living thing – which of course, it _was._

It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Skywarp's offer was _humbling_ and _terrifying_ and utterly _insane_, and his processor kept insisting that he shouldn't even be contemplating it, but he'd still had to override the command to open his own chestplates at least twice already. Within its chamber, his spark was rebelling against all common sense, swelling and _reaching_ for Skywarp's, threatening to burst free and take him of its own accord, pulsing with recognition and a sweet, terrible _longing_, yearning to merge with an ache so deep and profound it almost _hurt_ –

A low, helpless groan escaped his vocalizer as he surrendered to his spark's desire, stopped transmitting the override code and allowed his chestplates to part, baring his spark in return. The combined light of their pulsing sparks blinded his optics, but he could hear Skywarp moaning at the sight, whispering his name as Thundercracker leaned into him.

He cried out in startled ecstasy as their sparks touched, pleasure shooting through him like a thousand overloads packed into the space of a single astrosecond, only it didn't stop, it went on and on. The shifting coronas of their sparks blended and overlapped, small threadlike tendrils of energy rising up to coil between them like a hundred tiny hands, reaching out and grasping hold of one another, drawing them in...

Their cores met, met and merged, and suddenly he was _inside_ Skywarp – no, he _was_ Skywarp, and Skywarp was _him_, and Thundercracker didn't know anymore where one of them ended and the other began. Caught up in the onslaught of sensation and emotion, he resumed his thrusts, driving his spike into Skywarp's valve in sheer desperation – it was too much, too much and yet not enough, he _needed_ to move, to ground himself in that tight, exquisite heat –

Skywarp keened hungrily, crushing him close, trembling and straining, his hip plate surging up to meet him, caught up in the same urgent need for release from that overwhelming, all-consuming ecstasy. Their fevered coupling strained the connection between their sparks, made them shift against one another as their bodies moved in unison, the crackling tendrils of energy stretching almost to the point of severance and then pulling back in again, causing the waves of pleasure to swell and ebb in synchronous rhythm, growing and building and oh, _Primus_, he could _feel_ him, not just the exquisite friction of his spike sliding in and out of Skywarp's valve, but Skywarp's _pleasure_, Skywarp's _need_ melding seamlessly with his own, and beneath it all that part of him-not-him that was essentially, inherently _Skywarp_ – selfish and cruel, sly and teasing, mischievous and playful and impulsive and passionate and, and –

Skywarp _loved_ him.

Thundercracker sobbed through his intakes as the certainty of the emotion flooded over him, merging with the intense pleasure coursing through his circuitry. Beneath him, he heard Skywarp whimper and knew he'd had had a similar revelation, learning the truth at last that Thundercracker had denied for so long, hidden even from himself –

_He loved Skywarp, too._

The realization was accompanied by a burst of elation he sensed was not entirely his own, a feeling of unutterable _joy_ and unrestrained adoration suffusing their sparks and sending them crashing into overload, their systems overwhelmed by pleasure and emotion too vast to be contained, and in that moment of perfect union, Thundercracker felt with absolute certainty the simultaneous assertion wordlessly voiced by their conjoined sparks –

_I'm yours._

* * *

He onlined wrapped in Skywarp's arms, his circuits humming with a curious contentment that was unlike anything Thundercracker had ever felt before, a sense of peace and fulfillment and languorous bliss that made him cycle a slow, shuddering sigh through his intakes, settling deeper into his lover's embrace.

Skywarp stirred at the sound, onlining his optics, and Thundercracker met his gaze with a look of affection, feeling his spark pulse in recognition even though they were no longer merged, their chestplates having closed as their systems rebooted, breaking the connection.

"Hi," Skywarp whispered.

"Hey," he whispered back.

'Warp's lip components quirked in a triumphant smirk. "You love me," he said smugly.

"So do you," he retorted, too amused to sound convincingly defensive.

Skywarp's expression softened. "Yeah," he said, and Thundercracker _felt_ it, felt the truth behind the words, felt the _emotion_ that inspired them.

His optics widened in alarm.

Skywarp tensed under him. "TC? What's wrong? You're _scared_."

He could still _feel_ him, feel 'Warp's confusion and concern, emotions that were not his own coursing through his spark! He drew back, disturbed by the sense of _other_ within him, even though the presence was one he recognized, one he trusted.

"What is it, TC?" Skywarp asked. "Why are you afraid?"

"How do you _know_ I'm afraid, 'Warp?" he asked pointedly.

Skywarp frowned in puzzlement for all of an astrosecond before realization dawned. "I can _feel_ you," he whispered. "Primus, TC, I can still _feel_ you!"

He _was_ frightened; under the circumstances there was no way to deny it. He raised himself up on his elbows, trying to lift off Skywarp, to pull away, but 'Warp's arms tightened around him, preventing his retreat. "What is this?" he asked, unable to conceal the quaver in his vocalizer. "Why didn't it go away?"

"I think…it's a spark bond," Skywarp replied hesitantly. "I think it's _supposed_ to be like this."

He could feel _that_ too, 'Warp's uncertainty, but also his happiness – Skywarp _liked_ the idea of being bonded to him, of being able to feel him all the time, even though what he was feeling in that moment could have only been Thundercracker's growing apprehension.

"You don't have to be scared, TC," Skywarp said. "You never have to be scared with me."

He couldn't help but be calmed by that, because Skywarp's reassurance went beyond mere words. Thundercracker could feel 'Warp's trust and devotion washing over him, resonating truth to his very core. Overwhelmed by the implications, he sank slowly back down into his embrace. "What did we _do?_" he whispered.

"We spark-bonded," Skywarp said. "I heard about it once, a long time ago – back on Cybertron, before the war, lots of mechs and femmes did it. But no one really does anymore. I'm not sure why. I know you're afraid, TC, but I know you wanted it, too. I _felt_ it."

That, too, rang true. He _had_ wanted it. He _still_ wanted it. To be _his._

"Don't you see, TC?" Skywarp said. "It doesn't matter anymore. Not Megatron, not Starscream, not any of it – no matter who we 'face, who 'faces us – we'll always have something they can never touch, something that's just ours."

That was…_comforting_ in a way Thundercracker hadn't expected it to be. "Yeah," he said, feeling a significant degree of tension lifting from his frame – but not all of it. Skywarp's words had reminded him of the unpleasant reality he'd been trying to forget. "I don't want to do it again, 'Warp," he said. "It's better, knowing you –" he faltered, shaking his helm, and pressed on, "it's better, but I still don't want to do it."

Apparently it was a perk of their fledgling bond that he didn't have to explain what he meant; 'Warp knew. "I don't understand," Skywarp said. "I know you didn't like it, but I don't get _why_. It's just _'facing_, TC. He didn't hurt you, and as long as you don't slag him off, he probably won't. He'll probably even overload you. What's so bad about that?"

"I hate it," he said, his fuel tank churning in revulsion, his CPU assaulted by memory files of being held down, of being derided and humiliated, _used_ and _hurt_ –

Skywarp stared at him. "You really do," he said, startled. "Why, TC?"

"Because I hate being _used_ like that!" he burst out, his circuits heating with shame.

Skywarp's optics widened fractionally, and Thundercracker _felt_ more than saw the comprehension dawn in them, realizing too late that his emotions had communicated far more than he'd intended to reveal.

"Someone _did_ force you, didn't they?" 'Warp asked carefully. "Not Megatron, not like that – someone else. They _made_ you do it. They hurt you."

He couldn't lie. With their new empathic connection, 'Warp would sense it. "Yeah," he admitted reluctantly.

"When?"

"Cybertron," he replied shortly. "A long time ago."

"Who was it?" Skywarp asked. "What was his name? Did you know him?"

He didn't want to tell 'Warp who it had been. They hadn't known each other then, but Skywarp had trained under Steelwing, too – all the Seekers of their generation had. Back then, Steelwing had been regarded by many as a hero, a veteran of numerous successful campaigns. Everyone had admired him, eagerly swapping tales of his exploits.

When Steelwing had ordered Thundercracker to report to his office, he'd been elated, imagining with naïve enthusiasm that the renowned warrior must have recognized some unique merit in him, that he intended to give Thundercracker some special assignment or honor, maybe even take him under his wing as his personal protégé. He'd been so _proud_ to have caught the legendary commander's optic, to have impressed him enough to be singled out from his peers.

He'd gone expecting praise. He'd gotten something else.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "He was deactivated a long time ago. He's rust."

"Did you kill him?"

"_No,_" he said. "Primus, 'Warp, I was –" He huffed through his intakes. "He died in the war, like a lot of mechs. I didn't kill him."

"I would have," Skywarp said. "If he'd done that to _me_, I'd have killed him."

"No you wouldn't," he replied bitterly. _Any more than you'd kill Megatron,_ he thought. _Pit, you'd probably be _jealous_ if you knew. Your trinemate got fragged by _Steelwing_, lost his seal to a living legend – what Seeker _wouldn't_ envy that?_

The bitterness underlying his tone was only a fraction of what he actually felt, and Thundercracker could sense Skywarp's curiosity, his concern, but 'Warp didn't press him for details, instead reaching out to stroke his faceplate, regarding him with sympathetic optics. For some reason, Thundercracker didn't feel compelled to object to the coddling gesture.

"I'm gonna fix it, TC," Skywarp assured him. "I'll figure out a way to deal with Megatron. I'll take care of it."

He meant it; Thundercracker could feel that. The sentiment echoed through the bond, filling his spark with Skywarp's determination. In his own way, 'Warp was trying to comfort him.

A part of him wanted to believe it, to believe the pulsing of his spark that told him his lover really _could_ fix anything, surmount any obstacle, but Thundercracker knew reality had a way of dashing idealistic dreams.

"Okay, 'Warp," he said. "Whatever you say."

 

***fin*** (for now)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a downer ending, I know, but I just couldn't see TC being all that chipper under the circumstances. Fortunately there is an additional fic to follow this one in which Skywarp attempts to address the Megatron problem, entitled _"Skywarp's Solution."_


End file.
